Deadbolt Installation and Other Impracticalities
by no2benry
Summary: Betty learns the value of proper safety protocol as she moves into her new digs. Semi-AU. You know good and well it's Detty.


**Obligatory disclaimer: I'm no closer to owning the characters and/or brandnames mentioned than I ever was.**

**A/N: As I was putting the finishing touches on "Uberfunky Happy Pills," this came to me. It's my own semi-AU spin on Betty getting her own place, except Daniel's her boyfriend and there's no Daniel Jr., as is right and proper. Seriously, whose idea was it to give Daniel a kid, for crap's sake? Yeah, Silvio, that should end well. ANYWAY. BennuBird has done this much more masterfully and coherently, but Detty has refused to leave me alone. I have no idea where it's going, so be warned. Reviews, however, are as cherished as ever. Whew.**

Installing these deadbolts, Betty mused on her way back from the hardware store, were going to be a pain in the ass.

She vaguely wished that Gio, her ex-semi-boyfriend/nemesis, was still around, if only because he was so handy with that kind of thing. She couldn't mention so to her current very-much-more-than-semi-boyfriend Daniel, though. Betty was pretty sure "Avoid mentioning ex-boyfriend's thing-handiness to current jealous-and-possessive-even-if-he-won't-admit-it boyfriend at all costs" was rule numero uno in the Official Girlfriend Handbook.

But nonetheless, she thought, Daniel was gonna be the one to pony up and pay for arming her new apartment like it was Fort Knox and she the very expensive and shiny goods within. It was his damned infernal idea anyway, after she had poo-pooed his original one, which involved her moving in with him in his Soho loft. She had very good reasons to want to be on her own, most of which she'd argued up and down with Daniel, to no avail.

First but not foremost was the issue of the mural of the big skanky redhead laughing down at her every time she disentangled herself from Daniel's embrace to go pee in the middle of the night.

Then there were all the uber-snobby rich people that gave her odd looks on the way to the elevator—kind of like _Mode_, actually, which she was used to—but she wanted the option of going home and escaping people like that, which she wouldn't have living there.

Third was her desire to at least give the illusion of being _somewhat_ independent from _somebody_, all while trying to prevent her father's head from spinning off into another dimension and exploding more than it already was. Ignacio and Daniel had formed the Overprotective Chauvinistic Male Loved One's Alliance, in which the charter, as had been read to her, stated that under no circumstances should Beatrice Georgina Suarez be left alone to her own devices.

Yes, it was infuriating. And yes, it was simultaneously kind of cute…alright, her insides melted to goo every time Daniel gave her the soulful baby blues to give his lectures that extra "ooomf." And, if she were honest with herself, her new apartment would probably be just a place to store her crap whilst she was in Soho cuddling Daniel in post-coital bliss (she couldn't really use this argument on her father, for obvious reasons). But still. A stand must be made.

She generally felt safe in her new digs, but she felt a pinprick of fear in her stomach as she turned the doorknob to her apartment—she was positive she'd left it locked—and it opened with a subtle-yet-ominous M. Night Shamaylan creak.

Unwilling to venture forth by herself, she sighed in annoyance at what she was about to do. Dragging her feet reluctantly to Jesse's threshold, she tentatively knocked.

Jesse (no last name given or, according to him, needed) was her next-door neighbor to her left. She'd hated his rock-star arrogance on sight, what with his tendency to talk to her chest instead of her face, and the feeling hadn't lessened much upon further acquaintance. Still, he was the only person here she somewhat knew yet, he was a male and had at least a little muscle definition and, if nothing else, the burglars could get trapped within his massive quantity of hair product until the cops showed up.

The door opened a crack and said hair product made an appearance. A narrow, fashionably sallow face with its large brown eyes followed, looked automatically at her boobs, and then leisurely lifted up to meet her eyes.

The full lips quirked.

"And what can I do for you this morning, Little Miss Be-a-trice?"

Betty bit back a retort that went something like, _It's 'Betty,' you pervy little jackhole_. Instead, she forced a smile and tilted her head in her most beseeching way.

"Jesse, I found my apartment door unlocked and I most definitely locked it when I left an hour ago. I was wondering if you could maybe go in with me and make sure…"

"…nothin' big and bad snaps up a little treat like you?" he interrupted, eyeing her curves again. "No worries, Chickadee. Your roommate's in there. Talked to him 'bout half an hour ago, while he was picking the lock."

"First of all, I don't have a roommate, second of all, you just took someone's word for it?!" Betty screeched in panic. "While he was _picking the lock_?!"

Jesse shrugged nonchalantly. "Seemed like a decent guy. Livin' in this part of town, I can tell when people are…" he made a swirly motion with his index finder beside his temple, "…totally psycho."

He sniffed thoughtfully—or what passed as thoughtful for Jesse. "I was a little surprised. His type don't normally rock this 'hood. Black leather Hugo Boss jacket, jeans that cost more than your rent for five months…"

Betty felt warmth begin to spread through her abdomen up to her heart, and she wanted to sink to the floor with relief. "His face, Jesse…what did he look like?" she whispered urgently.

"Uhhh…blue eyes, dark spiky hair. I dunno, I wasn't checking him out or anything."

"I got it from here, thanks," Betty said, turning swiftly to leave.

"See ya," he mumbled with a perfunctory glance at her ass before closing his door, gone as if he'd never been there at all.

_Have fun cooking your meth, weirdo_, Betty thought wryly.

She opened her door with a renewed sense of purpose. Find the guy inside, throw him on the coach, and ravish him before she killed him. Like the praying mantis or the black widow spider.

She knew what was coming, but before she could even fumble with the light switch, Daniel had pounced on her with a loud "GOTCHA!"

He gave a disappointed little whine when she didn't scream like a, well, girl.

"Jig's up, loser," she said exasperatedly. "Jesse filled me in on what you were up to."

Daniel straightened his jacket, turning her around in his arms to face him. "I was simply trying to demonstrate how easy it is to get in this place and why these deadbolts are necessary if you persist in your pigheadedness. I used a credit card, for God's sake," Daniel said imperiously, taking the bag of hardware out of her hand before she hit him with it.

She snatched the bag away from him and held it behind her back as he made to grab it. "Yeah, well, since you and dad had to go all Elmo and Grover on me with the safety lectures, I figured it was easier just to buy the damn things. I'm installing it myself, though," she added trying to get control of the situation.

Daniel gave her one of his many Poor Little Rich Boy (patent pending) faces, kind of akin to the "Wait, people _actually_ mow their own grass?" one. This one was ten times more annoying, though, because it was the one that said "No girlfriend of mine is going to install her own door locks. I'll throw a little cash at it instead."

Now it was Betty's turn to snatch as he flipped out his phone to call some kind of rich man's handyman. "Daniel, this is ridiculous," she huffed. "Papi can lend me the tools…I can look up an online instruction manual or something. Dear God."

Daniel looked at her askance. "If you're looking for a tool, there's one living right next door. Jackie, is it?"

Betty grinned at Daniel's intentional lapses in memory when it came to the names of guys on his shitlist. The man could remember the name of every client they'd ever had over the last two years _and_ their assistants _and_ their assistants' mothers, but it had taken him at least three months to remember the names of all her ex-boyfriends. Let's see, Walter had been "Wilbur," Henry had been "Harry," Gio had been "Assclown,"…

"Jesse?" Betty grinned.

"Whatever. Let's just say we won't be forming a clubhouse anytime soon."

Feeling the need to bait him a little, Betty shrugged demurely, looking up at him through her lashes. "Aw, he's not _that_ bad."

She had to fight to keep from giggling at Daniel's outraged, incredulous silence, looking down at her feet so he wouldn't see her mirth.

When she risked a glance back up, she found herself eye-level with a leather-clad chest.

Deft fingers lifted her chin to look at him. She was shocked out of her game by the feverish intensity in those exotic sky-colored eyes. "Not that bad, huh?" he whispered, his voice raspy.

"Nuh-uh," she murmured, too entranced to blink.

"A bad seed, that one," he breathed, his tongue darting into her ear, causing her to gasp.

His hands snaked down around her waist to clamp firmly on her butt and he pulled her to him, leaving no room for daylight. It must have been the result of eons worth of testosterone-induced conditioning, but even the suggestion that he had competition made Not-So-Little Daniel want to come out and play.

"Still got that air-mattress or have you gotten a proper bed for this place yet?" he asked between nips and kisses to her neck. At her shake of her head, he said, "First thing tomorrow, we're going shopping." He looked around for a place to sit her pretty bum.

"Daniel, we can't do this now, we don't even have proper locks for the doors," she laughed, breathlessly throwing his own time-worn mantra back at him. She really did have a point. The last time they'd done this was…well, last night over at Daniel's loft, and the some of the more clueless tenants had thought their handsome neighbor was simply rearranging his furniture.

Daniel had picked her up and sat her on the table, unbuttoning her top and leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. A few more minutes of this and Betty would be just as happy doing it in the lobby as anywhere.

"Jesse might walk in," she pleaded, in a halfhearted last-ditch effort to save her kitchen table.

Daniel undid his belt buckle in one practiced movement and leapt up to straddle her. His smirk was completely bite-able.

"Yeah, well, he could learn a few things from Grover about proper handling of equipment."

Betty's last coherent thought went something like, _"today's show is brought to you by the letter 'O,' for 'OH MY GOD'..."_

**Well, that was dirty. I don't think it warrants an "M" rating though, because no f-bombs were dropped and I only made veiled references to certain parts of the anatomy. Alrighty, then! Thanks for reading xD**

**P.S.: Sorry if I ruined "Sesame Street" for anyone…**


End file.
